


Finish Line

by Esselle



Series: Speed Demons [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Blow Jobs in a Car, Fast Cars, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Road Head, Street Racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6774649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/pseuds/Esselle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Kageyama yanks the door open and slides behind the wheel of Hinata’s car, pushing the seat back to adjust for his much longer legs. “Watch closely.”</p><p>The engine revs. Throbs. Hinata stares as Kageyama settles into the seat and… <i>uh-oh,</i> he thinks, when the mechanic inhales deeply—exhales—licks his lips and pulls the bottom one through his teeth before, Hinata swears to all and any gods that are out there, smoothly rolling his hips as he sinks into the leather.</p><p><i>“Oh my god,”</i> Hinata whispers.’</p><p>--</p><p>The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines “roadhead” as “the end of a road; the farthest point reached by a road under construction”. </p><p>This is about a very different kind of road head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finish Line

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place at some unspecified point after the events of "Speed Demons", but can easily be read as a standalone.
> 
> (Also, this is not safe or advisable... pls DO NOT ATTEMPT)

The sound of tires shrieking fills the air as Hinata blazes across the finish line on the empty stretch of road that is their practice ground for the night. His engine purrs, satisfied, and so is he.

“Yes!” he shouts, slamming his fist against the wheel. That was it. That was fucking it. That was his best time so far, and he’s been hauling ass his past sixteen runs as it is. He turns to his silent passenger expectantly. “Well?”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow. “What are you so excited about? Your time’s still shit.”

_“What?!”_

The dark-haired man snorts. “If you’re planning on beating Seijoh, there’s no way that’s going to cut it.”

“I know what the top times are for this circuit,” Hinata says. “I just smashed them.”

“Yeah, the local top,” Kageyama nods. “Those won’t be Oikawa’s times.”

“There’s no possible way this track can be run faster,” Hinata protests. “No way.”

“Uh, yeah, there is,” Kageyama rolls his eyes. “It’s pretty easy.”

Hinata gapes at him. “Bullshit.”

“You’re seriously doubting me?” Kageyama scoffs. “Haven’t you had your ass handed to you enough times?”

Apparently not. Hinata crosses his arms over his chest. “Bullshit,” he says again.

Kageyama taps his fingers on the windowsill. Then he shoves open the door. “Get out.”

Ah, shit.

“Why?” Hinata asks, wondering if he can backtrack.

“Obviously, I’m going to prove you wrong. Again.” Kageyama stalks around to his side of the car. Hinata rolls up the driver side window.

“You know,” he says, loudly, so Kageyama can hear him through the glass, “actually, maybe I’ll just try again—”

“Hinata.” Kageyama puts both hands on the window, and leans against it. “Move the fuck over.”

Hinata stares out the window at him. Bad decision. Kageyama is glaring down at him, and the way he’s standing makes his stupid tight white t-shirt stretch snugly across his arms and chest, and he looks like he’s ready to drag Hinata out of the car and throw him into the dirt—and all of these things may be critical strikes against the very large (and easily aroused), Kageyama-shaped weak spot in Hinata’s heart. He shuffles over into the passenger seat.

Kageyama yanks the door open and slides behind the wheel, pushing the seat back to adjust for his much longer legs. He rolls his sleeves up over his shoulders and pulls on his fingerless black driving gloves and Hinata bites back a groan. Okay, he’s definitely about to get totally fucked, here. But— _ideally—_ he can follow that up by getting totally _fucked._ See what he did there?

“Watch closely,” Kageyama tells him.

“Oh, I am,” Hinata says.

The engine revs. Throbs. Hinata stares as Kageyama settles into the seat and… _uh-oh,_ he thinks, when the mechanic inhales deeply—exhales—licks his lips and pulls the bottom one through his teeth before, Hinata swears to all and any gods that are out there, smoothly rolling his hips as he sinks into the leather.

 _“Oh my god,”_ Hinata whispers.

“Are you paying attention?” Kageyama demands.

“Yep!”

“Okay, I said, count me down—can you at least manage that?” They’ll have a flag drop on the day but without that, it’s still best to simulate it.

“Uh huh,” Hinata nods. “Three… two… _one—”_

The car _lunges_ forward. The engine roars like it’s finally been let loose and they are _gone,_ flying down the straightaway. The streetlights, neon storefront signs, everything blurs outside the windshield and in Kageyama’s dark eyes as he focuses in on the asphalt laid out for him to take. It feels _different_ when he drives, Hinata thinks, not for the first time. He loves his car, but Kageyama makes him feel like someone came in and swept his baby away from him, the way it performs for him, the way the body shudders under his thighs as Kageyama whips it into the first curve without losing a second of velocity.

“Time,” Kageyama snaps out, and Hinata checks the clock. They’re holding even, and he’s about to say so, when he catches the ghost of a smirk on the mechanic’s face.

The muscles in his forearms flex as he switches gears, gripping the wheel hard. He slams his foot on the brake and yanks the wheel around, throwing the car into a drift that seems impossibly, _incredibly_ tight. And Hinata sees where he’s going wrong. There’s no way his turns were that good.

“Shit,” is all he says as they straighten out of the curve, blasting off down the roadway, and it’s not at the fact that he’s clearly losing this battle. It’s at the way Kageyama’s arms and shoulders and throat are shining with a thin sheen of sweat, it’s at the way he tosses his head once, his eyes lit up in pure exhilaration at _racing,_ it’s at the way his body moves when he’s behind the wheel of a car, like he’s just as powerful as the sleek metal beast he commands, if not more so.

Hinata reaches over and grabs a literal handful of his dick.

Kageyama doesn’t even blink, doesn’t take his eyes off the road for a second, but he does say, “Hinata, what the _fuck?”_

“Sorry,” Hinata says. He’s not sorry, not even a little bit. He drives this detail home by pulling the fly on Kageyama’s dark jeans down. The underwear is next and he’s not surprised to see the other man is at half-mast already. It’s definitely not from the two seconds of Hinata’s hand on his cock. “You get off on racing?”

“No shit, asshole,” Kageyama grinds out. “You don’t?”

Hinata grins. Of course he does. They all do. Which is why, even though it takes a hell of a lot of maneuvering, he wriggles his way under Kageyama’s arm, taut on the stick, until his face is level with his rapidly hardening dick. Kageyama has, if Hinata is being honest, a really nice dick. It’s really hard to stay off it, even under the most mundane of circumstances. Right now, as the empty city streets outside the window become nothing but a blur of color, is hardly mundane.

“If you think this is gonna make me lose to you—” Kageyama starts to say.

“I don’t,” Hinata cuts him off. “I just really want you in my mouth. Right now.”

Kageyama blows out a breath above him. “Then _get on me.”_

Green light. Hinata dives down and swallows him to the back of his throat.

“Oh, _fuck_ —” Kageyama says, and Hinata feels him shift gears again, feels the force as they spin into another turn, and he grips Kageyama’s hip tight enough to bruise so he doesn’t shift, sliding his tongue over the thick cock in his mouth, trying to cover as much surface area as he can.

He’s got a thing for Kageyama’s smell, he has figured out by now. Clean sweat and leather upholstery and something to do with the garage he basically lives in, raw and powerful and fucking hot as hell.

“‘uck ‘y ‘ouf—” he says, or tries to, and just ends up drooling all over Kageyama’s erection.

“Use words,” Kageyama snaps. “Or, better idea, don’t fucking talk with your teeth around my dick?”

Hinata pulls off. “I said, fuck my mouth.”

“How many things do you think I can do at once, here?”

Fine—Hinata will just have to make it not an option. He swirls his tongue around the tip of Kageyama’s cock, flicking over the slit, and smirks when Kageyama’s hips jerk up. Slowly, he lowers himself back down, circling his tongue the whole way, over the head, the entire length of it, tracing the line of the thick vein on the underside.

Kageyama pushes up into his mouth with a groan, stays suspended there for so long Hinata wonders if his cock is planning on buying up real estate. Then he start to roll his hips in short, sharp thrusts, breathing rough and ragged, and Hinata smiles around him because he has a fucking _plan,_ and it’s all going accordingly.

“I’m gonna come down your throat,” Kageyama growls. Hinata nods, gives him a thumbs up he probably doesn’t see, and starts bobbing up and down, lips wrapped tight around him. He picks up the pace when they hit the fifth turn. Kageyama slides a little lower in his seat and spreads his legs and just starts swearing, an endless stream of profanity the only sound other than the rising whine of the engine.

Hinata pulls all the way off with a pop and glances up at Kageyama. Kageyama does not look down, but the lines of muscle in his arms and throat are tense, his cheeks are flushed, and his pupils are blown. He’s so high off it, the speed, the arousal, the danger. One wrong twitch of the wheel and they’re both done, but Kageyama doesn’t make wrong moves when he controls the car, not even when he’s getting his dick sucked at ninety miles an hour. Hinata knows he loves it, they both do. He’s _close_ , in more ways than one.

Hinata goes back down, all the way, until his nose is in coarse black hair again, and there’s a hot press at the back of his throat, and he gives a hard swallow and moans loud. There’s an answering sound above him, long and low, and Kageyama’s hips stutter as he fills up Hinata’s mouth in the same instant that he crosses the finish line, slamming down on the brakes and finally, finally bringing the car to a screaming stop.

He doesn’t even give Hinata a chance to finish swallowing before he gets a hand in his hair and yanks him up—the sting of his hair being pulled is amazing, and Hinata is painfully, painfully hard. There’s cum dribbling out of his mouth when they kiss, making out furiously across the seats, Kageyama’s hand tight in his hair.

When they pull back, Kageyama pants out, “Switch.”

“Ah…” Hinata looks down at his lap. “Can I—”

“I beat your time by nearly four seconds,” Kageyama says. “We’re going to see how well you do under the same conditions.” He kicks open the door, zipping himself back into his pants.

Hinata stares. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Yeah, okay.” He is going to get _fucking destroyed._

And it’s going to be _awesome._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Hinata probably makes it like twenty feet before just coasting to a stop and giving up while Kageyama sucks him off tbh. He just doesn't have the _fine motor skills_ *ugly laughs*)
> 
> I actually wrote this scene before I even started writing "Speed Demons", and then that fic transformed into something where this just didn’t fit in (so I filled the hole in my heart with raunchy car sex instead, oops). But I wanted to post it now, since I'm still in the midst of working on other things that aren't ready to go up for a little while. Thanks for reading! And thank you [Ellessey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/works) for editing <3
> 
> [I'm [@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]


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